She danced like a desperate stripper waiting for her trick to save her ’cause her weave got wet looking like a wet poodle. He rapped he was Ike Turner and beat his wife to eat the cake like Anna Mae.
I’m being sarcastic, but that pretty much sums up my analysis of Jay-Z and Beyoncé’s “Drunk in Love” opening performance for the 2014 Grammys.
A rapper making the predictable and strange reference to the abuses suffered by Tina Turner from the hands of her own husband, Ike Turner.
“Eat the cake, Anna Mae!” Jay Z rapped referencing himself as “Ike Turner,” definitely brought back uncomfortable memories of the biopic “What’s Love Got to Do With It,” in which Ike Turner forces cake into Tina Turner’s mouth so that they can celebrate her career. It also brought back dark memories of being physically abused by my son’s father. And not to mention, it’s a disservice to all those stuck in intimate partner violence. Domestic violence is not cute, it’s a raging hidden epidemic, especially in hip-hop, where it’s an acceptable topic to rap with no consequence to their manhood.
It’s clear, Beyoncé has never been in a domestic violence relationship, so it’s easy for her to make light of such a dark subject matter. Their opening Grammys performance was nothing short of another cliché exotic dancer accessory to Brooklyn’s “Big Pimpin'” rapper. What made me shudder to think was hearing him rap, “Eat the cake,” as if it was this cool-ass chorus he constructed. I won’t be singing-along. Sorry, not sorry.
Wake up. Domestic violence isn’t sexy. And anyone making light of it for sheer shock value is absurd and ass backwards for women’s rights. Beyoncé is confused, and does not stand for women to be respected as a man’s equal. It’s like she’s pushing the “feminism boulder” uphill. I have to ask her, “How can women run the world, ever-ever, in a damn bikini with your ass out?”
But, trilly what can we expect? After all, this is the same couple in Watch the Throne, where Jay-Z proudly rapped, “That’s my bitch,” referencing his wife, Beyoncé. What we can except is hard hitting head-nodding music with the proverbial my dick is in your bitch and my wallet is fatter than yours lyrics.